


One Step Closer to Eternity

by LonelyIntrovert



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-21 22:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6061000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyIntrovert/pseuds/LonelyIntrovert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A summary of Patsy's and Delia's wedding, the plans leading up to it and the aftermath. Lots of fluff, minimal smut in next chapters, from (mainly) Patsy's POV, though it is in third person.  As accurate as possible with the show and what has been released, not a lot of "fictional" freedom.  Characters owned by BBC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Recollections

Patsy released a pent of breath while gazing intently in the mirror, her hands on her hips and her upper lip curled into an indecisive frown. The suit was on; there was no going back now. She remembered back to when this had started, how it all unraveled into the unparalleled dream it was that day.

Six months ago Patsy and Delia had come out to their friends, Trixie and Phyllis, and were regulars at “Gateways”, and infamous gay bar, were they found refuge. But things never felt right. Delia was adamant that they be married, in fact more so than Patsy originally thought, to where she practically refused to have sex with Patsy. Not that Patsy ever came out to ask her permission, it just sort of worked out that way. Besides, they never would have had the time nor the safety to have sex; they were both nurses and they hardly had the money or opportunity to get a hotel room or take the time off. Patsy was frustrated, and she could tell Delia was too. She did not blame Delia for their predicament, feeling as if their relationship was going nowhere fast, she instead blamed the society around them. It was not as if Patsy had no stock in matrimony, she in fact believed that it was a special binding of two souls into one and all that. But she knew it would never happen between her and Delia, and she was prepared to live that life, albeit the sexual tension that constantly existed between them. 

That changed six months ago.

They were at Gateways, with Trixie in tow (she had been begging to see what all the hub-bub was about) and they ran into a gay couple from France. The two men spoke good English and it turned out that they had met in the French Navy. When they retired, the one rented out a yacht (he was apparently very rich) when he discovered that a captain had the authority to marry while on his ship. Unable to hide her astonishment and excitement, Patsy continued to question them, drilling the captain about how long he was willing to stay in England and how much he would charge for a wedding. At the time Delia was beyond conversation, having drunk over half a bottle of bourbon and uncharacteristically flirting with other women (which didn’t matter to Patsy, the rest of the bar knew who Delia’s girlfriend was and didn’t dare flirt back for fear of Patsy’s wrath). The captain was unbelievably amiable and sympathetic to their situation, and said that England would sustain them for another year or so, and that he would happily marry the pair free of charge.

So Patsy dragged a completely drunk Delia and a forlorn Trixie out of the bar to a nearby inn and spelled her plan out to Trixie while Delia was passed out on the only bed. Trixie was wary at first, there were some obvious kinks that needed to be worked out, such as getting the money to throw an undercover wedding and somehow getting the time off without looking too suspicious. It was clear Nurse Crane would need to be in on it to help smooth out wrinkles, so they waited until the following Monday before they brought it up again. While in the secrecy of Trixie’s and Patsy’s room, the three discussed the idea from sundown to sunup, trying to keep their excited squeals from alerting one of the nuns, or worse, Delia. 

Then came the proposal.

Patsy had already given Delia a sort of ‘promise ring’, though in fact it was her own mother’s engagement ring and was one of the only pieces she managed to save from the internment camp. The gesture was met with a night of caresses and kisses, alerting Patsy to the fact that she had made the right decision. Only Delia would ever understand how much that ring met to Patsy. Because Delia had the ring, Patsy really had no other option but to take Delia out and just tell her what she planned.

So she did.

It took a week to get a reservation at The Ritz, and a whole three weeks salary to afford a meal there. Beforehand, Patsy did not tell Delia where they were going for their anniversary, only that she should dress nicely (not that she didn’t do that always) and there was no way Patsy would be able to cancel, so it had to happen. When they stepped out of the cab Delia balked and almost retreated; after exclaiming, “Oh Cripes, Patsy!” she insisted that it was too much, that there was no way in hell they would be able to afford it! 

Patsy insisted, reminding Delia about how long it took to get reservations and guilting the dark-haired Welsh maiden into entering the classy institution. The reservations were under “Mount” and when the head waiter announced them, Delia released a peal of merriment, drawing strange looks from everyone around them. Neither of them imagined they would eat there. 

After the initial shock, Delia almost disdainfully gave in to her curiosity and they ordered a nice bottle of champagne along with some caviar, something Delia had never tasted. To them it was the most romantic meal they had ever shared, but they had to keep appearances up by not getting too close together or by looking away every once in a while. That way, it looked to strangers as if they were merely old colleagues that were getting together, while pilfering their husbands’ pocket change on their meal. 

After the caviar was ordered, it took some prodding from Patsy to get Delia to actually order a meal, and not just an appetizer of soup. It took all of Patsy’s control to not reveal the fact that Nurse Crane had very willingly loaned some extra money for the meal, and that Delia shouldn’t worry about ordering something overly extravagant. They ate like royalty, in plain sight of the richest people in London (and by far the most judgmental) and it tickled Patsy to think about how oblivious these people were! 

After the meal Patsy discreetly waved the waiter over and hid the receipt from Delia while she inwardly cringed. While she could cover it, it was more than she expected, and she knew she would have to somehow pay Phyllis back in a timely fashion.

They left the restaurant and hailed a cab, in which Patsy glanced over and noticed the chain around Delia’s neck that held the ring. The ring itself hid underneath Delia’s rather dashing spotted dress, so as to not get snagged on anything. 

“That was absolutely lovely,” Delia had said while they nestled into the back of a cab. The sun was setting, dying the sky orange and pink around them. Patsy, too nervous to even have eye-contact, asked for the pier. Delia frowned at the request, but continued on thanking Patsy for the meal, expressing her gratitude in softly spoken words.  
When they reached their destination, Patsy paid the fare and waved the cab driver off with a feeling of momentous trepidation. She fought off the urge to grasp her hand, and instead enveloped her elbow in hers and tugged her onto the boardwalk. It was a weekday and there was hardly anyone around them. Delia merrily trotted along, her eyes never leaving Patsy’s.

When they reached the end the two took a moment to gaze out at the ocean, Patsy noticing the captain’s yacht anchored only a mile or so offshore. Taking a deep breath and peering around, Patsy grasped Delia’s hands in her own and looked down at them, staring at how much smaller Delia’s hands were to her own.

“Delia,” she whispered, “I want to marry you.”

“I want to marry you too,” Delia said hoarsely, “but we can’t.”

Patsy swallowed the frog in her throat and tried to fight off the tears forming in her eyes. She desperately wanted to do this the right way, to get down on one knee, but she also didn’t want to cause a scene…

“My love,” she choked, meeting her gaze, “I…found a way…that we can marry, and it would be legal…”

“What do you mean Pats?” Delia demanded, tears forming in her own eyes.

Smiling, Patsy let the soft tears fall as she jerked her head in the direction of the yacht, sitting amiably at port. 

“You see that yacht?” Patsy whispered. 

“Yes,” came the breathless reply.

“I know the captain,” Patsy intoned, excitement entering her voice, “and he has agreed to marry us on his ship…it would be legal, even if the law doesn’t recognize it!”  
“It’s…legal?”

“Yes,” Patsy murmured back, brushing some stray tears off of Delia’s cheeks.

There was a pause as this sunk in.

“Patsy,” Delia said quietly.

“Yes.”

“I know where we are, but right now I can’t help it, I just want to kiss you so badly right now-”

Patsy released a choked laugh, glanced around, and then pulled Delia close while pressing her lips against hers.

After that, there was so much to do.

Patsy contacted the captain, Jacque, and tell him it was a green for go. She then had to figure out how to get off the rota for an extended amount of time while also getting Delia enough time off from the hospital. Trixie and Phyllis got in on the plans, Trixie babbling about dresses and who would be invited, and Nurse Crane cautioning about getting discovered. It took a month for Patsy to manage two wedding bands, by sending Jacque and his husband in and having them pretend to buy rings for themselves. She bought Delia’s and Delia bought hers. Trixie sat down with the pair and over the course of a week and a half discussed who would be invited. The only people considered were steady-goers at Gateways and of course Trixie and Nurse Crane, though Phyllis politely declined, saying she should stay and cover for them. 

Then came the attire.

Patsy was never found of the ‘butch’ image, she was in fact very fond of her femininity and she knew that was what made her, well her. But she was also a strong believer in the “traditional” wedding, and after being the tallest and more level-headed of the two (and after Trixie insisted on Delia wearing a dress) she felt obligated to wear a tux. But not a butchy suit.

So she nervously ventured into one of Chelsea’s clothes shops, after hearing rumors of other women getting custom-fit suits there. She was by herself; she dared not tell anyone what she was up too. The tailor was a shorter middle-aged woman with blonde hair and kind eyes. When Patsy’s entrance caused the doorbell to ring, she caught the tailor with a pipe clenched in her teeth and a box of tobacco in her hands. The tailor raised an eyebrow at Patsy, she obviously was not used to new customers.

“Hol’ on, sweetie, give me a mo’,” she said, puffing smoke vigorously as the tobacco caught flame. Placing the box on the counter, she turned to Patsy and asked gruffly, though not unkindly, “Whaddya need, cupcake?”

Stammering and mumbling, Patsy seemed to relay a description of what she wanted, and the tailor raised her hand to silence her.

Chuckling, the gruff woman said, “I got the idea, sweetie, no need to sweat it! C’ mon back and I take your measurements.”

Stunned, Patsy followed the trail of smoke into the backroom and allowed the tailor to take her measurements. Afterwards, she showed Patsy some other suits, some for men and other for women.

“Is this a special occasion?” the tailor asked, holding up a gray suit, “you don’t seem like the type to wear this often.”

“It’s a wedding, I’m getting married,” Patsy said, now fearlessly. The tailor was easy to talk to, and she did not seem easily disturbed. 

“Well hot damn! Congratulations to ya’!” she responded, her eyes widening with shock.

“Thank you,” Patsy said, flushing.

“That means these just won’t do,” the tailor continued briskly, you need…ah…this!”

What she held stunned Patsy. It was a dark black tux, (in modern language, it was smooth as fuck), that was slender and short in the torso. And that was what Patsy chose.

Three weeks later Patsy picked up the garments, now in her size, and brought them back under the cover of night. She didn’t tell anyone until a month prior about it, and even then it was only Trixie, just to stop her incessant questioning sessions before they went to bed. She told Trixie to wait outside, and then dressed fully in the outfit, secretly admiring how it fit on her. She decided to just wear a tie because the bowtie felt like it was choking her and she also didn’t know how to tie one. As she straightened it once more, she cracked the door open and gestured for Trixie to come in. 

“Oh Patsy,” Trixie gasped in shock, “…you’re so beautiful!” 

Blushing, she removed it and replaced her pajamas, while trying to see how Delia had fared. Trixie airily waved Patsy off, saying that everything was under control and that Patsy would be swept off her feet after seeing Delia. 

In the same breath, Trixie questioned, “Now what about the honeymoon?”

Patsy was at a loss. She had planned for the wedding, yes, and obviously for the wedding night, (duh, Delia would have slit her throat otherwise), but she did not think that they would have time for a proper honeymoon. When she brought this up, Trixie mentioned France.

“Just sail across the channel and visit some northern ports…you wouldn’t have to be there but a week!”

So went the honeymoon, Patsy decided.

Three months went by in quick succession, in which Patsy carefully orchestrated a much needed vacation, which went below the nun’s radar, even when Delia added in that she was tagging along with Patsy to Northern France to do some sight-seeing. Trixie’s leave was harder to make feasible, so it was made up that Trixie would hang out with Patsy and Delia a few hours before their boat left.

The night before their wedding, Patsy had a tough time falling asleep. Their bags had been packed and repacked at least twice a day for a week, and that whole day Trixie had made sure that the two lovers didn’t see each other. As the hour ticked past ten, there a soft knock on Patsy’s door, in which she opened it to behold Nurse Crane herself.

The older midwife smiled kindly at Patsy before pulling her into an embrace and wishing her the best of luck. 

“I was just popping in to see how you were doing,” she explained, “with wedding nerves and everything…”

“Thank you,” Patsy whispered, touched by her thoughtfulness.

“And I just wanted to say,” Nurse Crane continued in a soft voice, “I know your mother won’t be there tomorrow, and that she hasn’t been around for much of your life, but I know, especially if you were my daughter, that she would so proud of you!”

Patsy found it hard to say much after that.

She did manage to ask “Can…can you check in on Delia?”

“Of course, Patsy, now you must get your rest…”

“But, can you…tell her…”

“I will.”


	2. Celebrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Matrimonal ceremony of Patsy and Delia

Patsy woke at daybreak after a sleepless night and gathered her things, impatiently waiting for Trixie to come. Delia was going to go with Nurse Crane first to the pier, and then she would turn around and tell Trixie, who would in turn come and get her. While glancing at her watch every few moments, Patsy tried to slow her breathing but it wouldn’t work. Five minutes later, the much anticipated knock came and they were off.

The car ride to the docks only heightened her stress, and as London woke around then, Patsy’s face grew pale with nervousness. 

When the car grew to a stop, Trixie helped Patsy with her bags, and after bidding farewell to Phyllis, the pair boarded a small speed boat that took them to the yacht, in the middle of the harbor. 

When they got on board, the captain eagerly greeted Patsy and showed her all the decorations and assured her that Delia was in her quarters and that all was well. Patsy was shown to her cabin, and sat down on the bed, preparing herself for the wait to come.

Several hours went by, and with each passing minute Patsy could hear an increase in the amount of voices outside her door. Trixie hardly stopped by at all, only to pop in and hand her a glass of water, claiming that Delia needed help with her hair, or her dress, or something to that effect. At ten o’clock Patsy roused herself and set out her tux outfit, careful to smooth out any creases or imperfections in the fabric. She then dressed methodically, gazing at her figure intently in the small mirror while plucking off miniscule flecks of dust. After straightening her tie, Patsy glanced at the clock and noticed that she still had fifteen minutes before Trixie promised to return to help with her hair and make-up. While she was looking at the clock, she noticed a crucifix hanging right next to it, and felt compelled to go down on her knees, her eyes shutting automatically as she made the sign of the cross with her right hand.

Patsy never claimed to be religious. At the Girl’s school, especially after she discovered her preferences for women, she often wondered why she should love someone who hated her for something she felt instinctively and had no control over. But as time went on and she left the Catholic school, she no longer felt pressured into praying before bed, nor in attending mass every Sunday and holiday. So it just kind of slipped in her priorities. But as Patsy knelt down, she reasoned that if there was a God, then she might as well make one last attempt to contact Him and ask not for forgiveness, (like she had so many times before), but instead for His blessing, and that maybe He would understand and support whatever she was getting herself into. It felt awkward, but after five minutes of whispering some familiar prayers and letting the words roll off her tongue, a certain calmness came over Patsy and she allowed a smile to spread across her face.

Finishing the prayer with an “Our Father”, Patsy repeated the sign of the cross and rose up, dusting off her knees as she did so. Feeling a great deal calmer, Patsy sat and waited for Trixie.

Trixie came a tad bit late, accompanied by a girl who she met at Gateways named Lola. Lola helped fuss over Patsy’s ginger tresses and argue which shade of green eyeshadow went the best with her hair, but it was soon figured out and Patsy was ushered from her cabin onto the deck.

The yacht had left port and was heading out to international waters when Patsy beheld the deck, loosely packed with her closest friends. Jacquess showed her where the ceremony would take place, and then showed her the rather impressive pile of gifts that had gathered on the table by the small wedding cake. Patsy mingled with her friends while they fussed over her, saying how beautiful she was and how lucky Delia was. Trixie managed to stay just out of Patsy’s nervous grasp, going in and out of Delia’s cabin every few minutes, alerting her as to how close they were to exiting British waters. 

And then they crossed it.

That invisible stretch of line was crossed and Patsy’s heart jumped into her throat as she was ushered underneath the makeshift arch of roses, where they would be married. The meager crowd was quick to seat themselves and quiet down as Jacques stepped up on a milk crate, making himself a head taller than Patsy. And then the music started playing.

The wedding march was being played by a recorder in the corner, and as Patsy gazed out at the crowd eagerly waiting in front of her, she fought the urge to turn and watch Delia’s door as they ooh’ed and ahh’ed. Trixie, who stood behind Patsy, sighed happily.

“She is so beautiful,” Trixie murmured as Patsy stared on.

“I know she is,” Patsy whispered back with a smirk. But she wasn’t prepared for what awaited her.

Delia walked down the rose-strewn aisle wearing a simple pink dress that hung on her form and outlined her figure pleasingly. The two stared at each in equal shock as the crowd twittered and giggled amongst themselves. When Delia drew up to Patsy, they grasped each other’s hands and smiled.

“A tux, for me?” Delia whispered mischievously, “You are such a tease Ms. Mount.”

“You have absolutely no room to talk Ms. Busby,” Patsy murmured as they both turned to Jacques, “I just want to ravish you in that dress.”

They were married at noon that day, and what followed was a dizzying fray that would be hardly remembered by any of the attendees the next day. Delia threw a bouquet of flowers, the chairs were pushed out of the way and a dancefloor was created on the deck. They danced a Welsh folkdance and cut the cake after Trixie toasted the new couple. After a brief luncheon, Trixie revealed to the whole group that Delia was in fact wearing a risqué garter, causing a roar of excitement and making Delia’s face go several shades darker. Cursing Trixie in Welsh, Delia feebly tried to dissuade the group until an equally embarrassed Patsy claimed defeat and urged Delia to sit down.

Raising her left ankle, Delia held onto the chair tensely as the crowd cheered on a rosy-faced Patsy underneath her skirts and between her legs. Steadying herself by holding Delia’s legs, Patsy shimmied her way up her partner’s slim legs, tracing her tongue on her skin as she did so, causing Delia to whimper and the crowd to erupt with laughter. Patsy easily found the obtrusive garter, and took the fabric between her teeth before tugging it down Delia’s thigh. When she emerged looking rather dazed with the tousled bit of silk in her mouth, the whole boat roared. Attempting to laugh it off, Patsy flicked it into the air and jumped up, ready to move the celebration along.

After a few hours of mingling, one of the guests pulled Patsy and Delia aside to hand them a sizable stock of grass (yes, weed). Both balked at the sight of it, but after much reassurance and urging, a joint was rolled and Patsy lit it while puffing on it gently. Soon the whole deck was swamped in smoke, and Patsy found it hard to distinguish what was a real feeling or just a symptom of the drug. Delia was not that much better off, speaking words of gibberish, (or was it Welsh?), and drunkenly swaying along with Patsy as they danced. As the night progressed things became blurry for everyone, to the point in which Delia fitted in the corner with only Patsy protecting her while everyone else was lost in a sea wild lust and unrestricted freedom. 

When Delia came around, (it was only a small one), Patsy thought through the mist that clouded her mind and told Jacques that it was about time they turned around to drop their guests back off. It was getting dark anyway, and Trixie was supposed to be back in London three hours prior. Patsy shuddered as she tried to think of how hard it was for Nurse Crane to come up with a feasible explanation for that. 

Things began to quiet down, especially after Patsy assisted a disoriented Delia below decks into their shared cabin. Leaving Delia to rest – after exchanging a few very racy kisses – Patsy returned just as the boat re-entered port to see her friends off. She stood and watched boat trip after boat trip, the only one standing by her side was Trixie. Towards the end, the blonde-haired woman turned to Patsy and spoke in a quiet voice.

“Patsy, can you ride with me to the pier?”

Patsy warily agreed, and a few minutes later, they were off.

When they arrived, the two hopped off, the boat still running, waiting for Patsy.

“I wanted to take your picture!” Trixie said to Patsy, who through her very deluded state did not bother to change her clothes and had in fact nonchalantly lit a cigarette to calm her nerves in preparation for her wedding night. Patsy shrugged and struck a pose.

“This is for Phyllis!” Trixie giggled, holding up the camera, “I need some more sass!” Patsy allowed the hint of a smirk come across her face, and a tickled Trixie snapped the picture. 

“One more thing Patsy,” Trixie shouted over the boat engine as the ginger turned to leave. Patsy just turned and looked at her in askance.

“Nurse Crane and I got you two a present,” Trixie said slowly, looking slightly bashful, “but you won’t be able to see it until you get back.”

“Trixie!” Patsy exclaimed, exasperated, “We said nothing too big!” Trixie just rolled her eyes and gestured for Patsy to board the motorboat.

“I’ll see you when you get back! Have fun!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -It's the 60's, weed is getting popular  
> -I just imagined that if Delia consumed too much of a drug she would have a spell. No Delia's were harmed throughout the making of this chapter  
> -Yes, that last bit was a Kodak moment  
> -What did Trixie and Nurse Crane get for Delia and Patsy?  
> -That bit where Patsy is praying, don't take it the wrong way. I just imagined that she would try to do something familiar to calm her nerves  
> -One more Chapter...


	3. Nuptial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The honeymoon

Patsy arrived back at the yacht as the sun was fully disappeared below the horizon. Jacques and his husband disembarked after releasing the anchor and reassuring Patsy that nothing would go amiss and that they would return the following morning at ten. After watching them leave, Patsy flicked the stub of her cigarette overboard and headed below decks, her stomach twisting into knots. 

When she reached the cabin door, Patsy hesitated before rapping her knuckles on the wooden frame and pressing it open. The lighting was dim, and it took a moment for her to spot Delia sitting in a chair, plucking at her dress nervously. The Welsh woman’s head snapped up and she smiled at Patsy as she rose up and approached her. They unanimously wrapped their arms around each other, their bodies pressing together pleasantly. 

Delia giggled and brushed her fingers along Patsy’s jawline, her hands trembling slightly. Patsy leaned into the touch, her breath coming out raggedly. 

“Patsy,” Delia whispered quietly.

“Yes?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous before in my life until right now.”

“You? Nervous?” Patsy scoffed playfully, “You’re the bravest one out of both of us!”

“Well I am.”

“To be completely honest, so am I,” Patsy whispered back, her tone suddenly gentle as she squeezed Delia’s waist gently, “I have no idea what to do.”

“Patsy Mount, Poplar’s most dependable midwife, is at a loss for ideas?” Delia joked, though her voice shook and was an octave high.

“Deels, we don’t have to do this right now if you don’t wa-”

“No, Patsy, I want to do this. It’s what we dreamed of, remember?”

“I never forgot,” Patsy murmured in a low tone as she brushed a lock of stray hair behind Delia’s ear.

Patsy’s voice changed, and became a note higher, with a trace of pain in it.

“You are so beautiful, Delia.”

It wasn’t like the previous times she had whispered it, in alleyways in the middle of the night. It was simple and raw, and caused tears to form in Patsy’s eyes. Delia’s face softened and she wordlessly pulled Patsy’s face lower so she could kiss the much taller ginger.

The kiss began like every other, soft and gentle, but unlike the other times, they allowed it to grow much more passionate and soon the two were grappling at each other’s clothes. Patsy unzipped Delia’s dress as Delia loosened her tie and removed her tux. For the first time Patsy let her hands explore the dark-haired woman’s soft skin without fear of going too far. Delia tugged Patsy’s dress shirt up and untucked it while Patsy wrestled Delia’s arms out of her dress. 

“Oh…Patsy!” Delia growled irritably, trying to unbutton the shirt before giving up and ripping it open, causing pearl buttons to go flying through the air. The taller woman released a moan in response, for Delia’s hands were now roaming across her bare skin, causing her jaw to spasm.

Patsy finally managed to free Delia of her dress, and without much thought, Patsy grasped Delia behind the thighs and lifted, producing a delighted squeal from the other. The shorter Welshwoman instinctively wrapped her muscular legs around Patsy’s torso and began to kiss her fervently while Patsy walked them both over to the bed.

Depositing Delia on the bed as gently as she could, Patsy climbed astride her and took pleasure in letting her hands skim over Delia’s body, plucking at her undergarments and stroking parts of her body she had only previously dreamed of touching. While she did this, Delia’s insistent hands unbuttoned Patsy’s trousers and tugged them down, her own waist bucking to meet Patsy’s. Begrudgingly, Patsy paused in her ministrations to wriggle out of the trousers before eagerly setting back to work on Delia.

After a moment of tentative awareness, Patsy hesitantly reached underneath Delia and unhooked her bra, pulling the fabric free of Delia’s body with one swift movement. The other woman released a guttural moan as Patsy instinctively bent down and began administering attention to Delia’s breasts, running her tongue over every curve and planting kisses every few centimeters. The next thing Patsy heard from Delia was a mix of Welsh and English, too clumped together for her to truly understand what she was saying.

Spurred on by this, Patsy delved deeper, her hands skimming down Delia’s abdominal skin until they reached her pelvis, in which Patsy timidly hooked her fingers under the edges of Delia’s rather frivolous panties. Delia, who was in the midst of kissing Patsy, broke it off to nod wantonly into Patsy’s neck, her nails lightly digging into Patsy’s shoulders. 

“Oh God, please,” Delia muttered audibly, her warm breath on Patsy’s cheek. For the next several minutes Patsy only heard Welsh rolling off of Delia’s tongue, along with moans and shrieks that made Patsy’s heart flutter. Towards the end, Delia was left clinging to Patsy, her breath coming out in short bursts.

“Oh Pats,” Delia moaned, her hands tugging at Patsy’s hair, “Oh cariad, please… please, Pats!” The last bit came out as a cry, and Patsy paused as Delia clamped down, her body forming a vice around Patsy. Patsy didn’t move, too fascinated as a wave of pleasure suffused Delia’s features. 

After a moment, Delia pulled Patsy close before wrestling her onto her back, an impish look on her face.

 

Patsy lit a cigarette absent-mindedly, the smoke curling up over the headboard and escaping out of the cracked porthole as the first rays of dawn stretched across the sky. She was drenched in sweat as she stared up at the ceiling, the first waves of shock crashing over her. Beside her, Delia’s face mirrored her expression, her long dark hair pooling around her shoulders. 

After a moment, Delia reached over and gestured for the cigarette, which Patsy willingly surrendered. To her mild surprise, instead of snuffing it out, Delia to a deep puff and breathed out slowly, the smoke billowing out of her nose and mouth. Replenishing Patsy with her cigarette, Delia seemed to self-consciously pull the covers protectively about herself as the sunlight began to creep in.

Tapping idly on her stomach, Patsy tried to think of something to say, though at first nothing came to mind. Stubbing the spent cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand, Patsy rolled onto her side so she could look at Delia. At the motion, Delia propped her head up, her eyes heavy-lidded.

“Deels,” Patsy began in a hoarse voice.

“Pats,” Delia whispered, her fingers trailing over Patsy’s arm.

“Last night… that was…”

“Absolutely amazing,” Delia finished, with a dark glint in her eye. Patsy smiled widely and chuckled, causing her chest to thrum with merriment.

“What is so funny?”

“It’s just…Oh, I can’t believe I was so nervous!” Patsy groaned, though relief was washing over her.

“We were both pretty foolish,” Delia agreed, “but now…”

Patsy’s lips quirked to the side mischievously as Delia shifted forward onto her stomach and peered down at the other playfully.

“…now I know how to make you beg.”

Patsy giggled despite herself and the two wrestled for several minutes before Delia stopped and gazed at her seriously.

“Patsy.”

Alarmed, Patsy asked, “What?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Delia.”

A week later, the pair disembarked from their honeymoon to discover that Nurse Crane and Trixie had invested in an apartment only a block away from Nonnatus House (so no bike rides necessary) and they would be able to spend weekends there without worry of being interrupted. It became an informal hang out place for the midwives, but on certain days, Patsy and Delia would close the door at nights and not emerge until the next morning.

They wore their wedding bands on their necklaces, and whenever a man flirted with them, Trixie or Nurse Crane was sure to chase them off.

**Author's Note:**

> -Patsy's tux was based off of a picture found on multiple social media cites of Emerald Fennel wearing a tux and smoking a cigarette. Not entirely positive if it had anything to do with CTM but I went with it  
> -Yes, that second 'proposal' was supposed to be the infamous Pier Scene... if it airs after this work is posted, please just bear with me  
> -Yes, international law states that the captain of an ocean-going vessel can in fact marry a couple aboard their ship


End file.
